Burned, p.1
Burned, page 1
Copyright © 2023 by Ivy Jackson
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Editing: Sandra at One Love Editing
Proofreading: Victoria at Cruel Ink Editing + Design
Formatting: Victoria at Cruel Ink Editing + Design
Cover Designer: Cady Verdiramo at Cruel Ink Editing + Design
Model Photographer: WANDER AGUIAR PHOTOGRAPHY LLC
Model: Andrew Biernat
For my aunt, who I got so many precious years with.
This book contains discussions about animal cruelty. While it is brief, it is discussed on page. Grief due to the loss of a loved one is present throughout.
Cystic Fibrosis is also discussed at length. It is a rare inherited disease that is life threatening, even with treatment.
If you would like to learn more about this disease, please visit the Cystic Fibrosis Foundation’s website. My family’s experience with this disease will be discussed in the acknowledgements.
“Me On You” - Muscadine Bloodline
“She’s Country” - Jason Aldean
“Honky Tonk Badonkadonk” - Trace Adkins
“Goodbye Earl” - The Chicks
“Tequila Makes Her Clothes Fall Off” - Joe Nichols
“Boot Scootin’ Boogie” - Brooks & Dunn
“Flatliner” - Cole Swindell & Dierks Bentley
CONTENTS
1. Poppy
2. Rhett
3. Poppy
4. Poppy
5. Rhett
6. Poppy
7. Poppy
8. Rhett
9. Poppy
10. Rhett
11. Poppy
12. Rhett
13. Poppy
14. Rhett
15. Poppy
16. Rhett
17. Poppy
18. Rhett
19. Poppy
20. Poppy
21. Poppy
22. Rhett
23. Poppy
24. Poppy
25. Poppy
26. Rhett
27. Poppy
28. Rhett
29. Rhett
30. Poppy
31. Poppy
32. Poppy
33. Rhett
34. Poppy
35. Rhett
36. Rhett
37. Poppy
38. Poppy
39. Poppy
40. Rhett
41. Poppy
Epilogue
Sneak Peek of Untamed
About the Author
Acknowledgments
I will never forget my first sexual experience.
I had just turned sixteen — yes, I was a late bloomer — and the guy I had a crush on was picking me up in his purple, vintage Mustang. One from like the sixties or something because that thing didn’t even have proper seat belts. And when I say he was picking me up, I mean he and his mom were picking me up. Because he still only had his permit and needed a licensed adult in the front seat.
So we get to his house, and his mom goes off somewhere and leaves us to hang out. His house was massive. I can’t remember what his parents did, but they made fucking bank. He had the entire lower level that walked out into the woods all to himself. Which begs the question, why didn’t we just stay in his room?
Who knows. He decides we need to take a ride on the four-wheeler. And I’m ecstatic, right? Because anything that gets me closer to him is a win for me. I get to hold on while we traipse around in the woods, getting muddy and doing things we probably shouldn’t.
But the next thing I know, we’re parked in a clearing, and I’m completely naked and lying on the seat of the four-wheeler with my feet propped up on the back bars. It’s like I was getting ready for a damn pap smear. Knees up and spread wide.
And he’s standing next to me, his cock out while he strokes it, and his other arm extended straight while he finger bangs the absolute shit out of me. And I mean bangs. Dude does not hold back and at the same time has no fucking clue what he is doing. It’s stiff and uncomfortable, and my sixteen-year-old self had no clue what to do with that.
Other than to fake it. And that’s exactly what I did. I knew what it felt like to have an orgasm. I was a late bloomer with other people, not with myself. I wasn’t a nun. So I faked it, making noises like the girls do in porn because I thought that’s probably what men liked.
Anyway, I “finished” and then stumbled my way through the most awkward hand job in the history of the Earth, with him getting annoyed that I wasn’t holding it right. But, Jesus Christ, it was the size of my forearm. I didn’t have the knowledge of how to deal with any dick, let alone one that large.
But I managed, and he eventually finished. He cleaned up on some leaves, and we both got dressed and went back to his house. I’m pretty sure he took me straight home after that, but honestly, I blocked everything out.
And that one experience set the tone for how all of my sexual encounters were going to go for the rest of my life. Because ever since then, I haven’t had a single orgasm that I haven’t given myself. I have mastered the art of faking it — squeeze the Kegels over and over again, moan just enough to make it believable, and act out of breath afterward when they eventually collapse from their own exhaustion.
That’s what I’m hoping will happen right now. As Ethan’s hips slap against my own, I send up a silent prayer that it will end as I squeeze my thighs and arch my back. The show is about to begin, and if I know him at all, it should make him race toward the finish line.
I don’t even know why I bother. Honestly, I like my alone time, and I can please myself better than any of the men I’ve dated. But I’m not asexual. There have been times I’ve wondered, but I’m not. I know I’m not because even when I know that the guy probably isn’t going to be able to get me off, I still get all the warm and fuzzy butterflies.
I still get wet. I still want them to touch me and try. And I really, really want it to happen. I want to meet the guy that’s going to work my body just as well as I can. Maybe one day, I’ll meet a guy who can make my toes curl and my eyes roll back.
But for now, I’m stuck with Ethan. Well, for this one last time anyway. I’ve been kind-of-sort-of dating him for the past six months. We met at my weekend job at the dog boarding and daycare center, and he’s funny and kind. So I gave it a go.
The show ends, and he collapses on top of me and kisses my temple before rolling off the side. I look over at him, watching his handsome face go all blissed-out while he comes down from the high. He has pretty natural blond hair that many women would kill for, and those eyes…don’t get me started on his eyes. They start off light blue around the pupil and have a dark ring around the outset.
“You’re sure you have to go?” he asks, turning his head to face me.
I blink out of my thoughts and take a deep breath, looking toward the ceiling.
“I do,” I tell him, a smile pulling at the corners of my mouth. “My flight is booked, and they expect me first thing Monday.”
He sighs, but I’m too busy being excited for my next adventure to worry about how he feels. I’ve been bouncing around my whole life, from moving all through high school, to twice in college, and then to San Francisco afterward. And in between all of that, I’ve never held down an actual job. I mean, I’ve had jobs. I’ve worked at restaurants, and in retail, and most recently, as a nanny and a part-time dog day care attendant.
I got a degree in English language, and I really thought I would waltz out with that degree and right into a speech therapy job. It was what I always wanted to do — work with kids in school to get over stutters and other speech impediments so they’d feel more confident about themselves.
One thing led to another, and that job just kept slipping out of my grasp. So many wanted a master’s degree, and I didn’t have the money to go to school for a second time around. So I thought I would get some odd jobs here and there, and that would help me save up to go back.
But school is expensive, and so is existing. Between groceries, rent, and credit card bills, I wasn’t able to save anything, let alone enough to go back to school. And the thought of applying for more student loans made me want to throw up. So I took the first, best-paying job I could find.
Being a nanny is great. I get to work with kids, and I get paid out the ass for it. Meanwhile, I get to live in their house, drive their spare car, and not pay any rent whatsoever. So for the past two years, I’ve been able to pay off all my credit card debt, make a dent in my school loans, and save up to move somewhere new. Somewhere I can start fresh. Again.
And when I stumbled upon this job on a ranch in Montana, I thought, holy shit, that sounds fun as hell. They’re hiring someone to come on and help them with all of their rescue animals, and even though I only have experience with dogs, they were eager to have someone with any experience at all.
My mom thinks I’m insane, moving to the middle of nowhere, Montana, but I couldn’t be more thrilled. I’m excited for the fresh mountain air and the change of scenery. The city is loud and constantly awake, but I want the sleepy pace of Cane Creek, Montana.
“You know,” Ethan starts, rolling over to sit up on his elbow. “We could try to make the long-distance thing work. I could fly to you, you could fly to me. It’s not that far away, and god knows you’ll probably move on once the summer is done.
That’s what I’m known for — never staying in one place for long. Never holding down a job, a relationship, or a place to live. Everyone has come to expect it of me, even Ethan. It stings, knowing that’s what everyone thinks of me. Not that I haven’t earned it — I have. But I still don’t like it. I want to be seen as someone to be relied on, someone stable and…adult. I may only be twenty-six, but that’s plenty old enough to be seen as a grown-up, for fuck’s sake.
“No, Ethan,” I say, rolling away from him and out of his bed. “I don’t want anything long-distance. And I certainly don’t want to bet against myself and this job already. Just because the trial period is only for the summer doesn’t mean I won’t choose to stay on permanently after.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”
“No, it’s fine.” I hold up my hand, cutting him off but giving him a sympathetic smile as I get dressed. “Today was the last time, okay? You’re great, but this is a fresh start for me. I want to finally start my life. And that means not bringing anything with me. Including you.”
Without a second glance at him, I pick up my bag and leave his room. I rush down the steep stairs of his town house and out the front door into the misty fog that’s rolling up from the bay. Closing the door behind me, it finally feels like I’m starting over.
Nothing holding me down. No strings. Nothing between me and the ranch in Montana. Smiling to myself, I walk toward the BART and say goodbye to this city.
The smell of coffee assaults my nose as I make my way into my parents’ house. Momma gets up every morning and makes sure there’s coffee ready to go for any of the guys who work on the ranch. Their home is the main hub for food and snacks, no matter how many times I tell her to stop letting these men take advantage of her kindness.
“Sun isn’t even up yet,” I say when I see my dad sitting at the kitchen table, reading the paper. His grey hair is almost white now, and his glasses sit low on his nose as he looks up at me, his brown eyes matching the color of my own.
“Habit,” he tells me, setting the paper down on the old wooden table. It’s been in the family since I was a little kid. We’ve had countless meals on it, and my sister used to sit there to do her breathing treatments every morning. I blink the memory of Addie away.
“Yeah?” I ask as I take a cup of coffee out of Momma’s hands. They’re fragile, with crooked fingers from the arthritis that cropped up early in her life. “Must be important if it gets you down here and dressed before 6:00 a.m., Pops.”
Normally, he’s walking around in baggy boxers and a loose T-shirt, not caring that men are running in and out of here like it’s a soup kitchen. Guess he earned it after all those years of running the ranch.
“We hired a new ranch hand.”
I set my mug down and press my palms into the cool granite of the countertop. I hang my head.
“We don’t need a new ranch hand,” I bite out. “Nor can we afford one.”
“You’ve been running your brother ragged ever since Tommy left. That poor boy needs a helping hand with those rescues you insist on taking in.”
I swallow the retort I want to say because he’s right. I do insist on taking in these damn rescue animals, all for Addie. It was Addie’s dream to run a rescue, and this is the only way I know how to honor my sister’s life.
Cracking my neck, I turn around and face him. Momma takes a sip from her own mug and watches us with a little smile on her lips. She’s got that look on her face, like she knows something I don’t. I do not like that one bit.
“Okay, and why did this news need to be told face-to-face? Could’ve just told Wells to tell me.” I look back and forth between the two of them. “Something else you wanna tell me, Pops?”
“I want you to be nice to her,” he says, like I’m not a nice person. “Drop the asshole attitude so you don’t run her off.”
“This better not be another matchmaking attempt. I told you after Leah that I was done with that shit. I don’t need another woman to rip out my kids’ hearts—”
“Watch your mouth,” Momma chastises, shaking her head like she’s disappointed in me. Even though she was really the one that taught me the worst of the words I know.
“Yes, ma’am.” I wink at her, and it makes her smile even wider.
“Going over to watch my grandbabies,” she tells me as she kisses me on the cheek. “We’ll come see you for lunch.”
“Thanks, Momma.”
I’m going to have to figure out something else soon. I can’t keep having her watch my kids every day. She’s getting too old, and she deserves to enjoy her retirement, not work through it. And those kids are work.
Jolene is six, and Wade is five, and they both run around this damn ranch like they own the place.
“It’s not a setup.” Pops sighs once Momma has left the house. “She’s young. But she’s one of the very few applicants we got that had any experience with animals. I wanted someone who knew what the hell they were doin’.”
“She from around here?” I take another drink of coffee, letting the life-giving drug burn its way down my throat.
“She’s from San Francisco.”
I damn near spit this coffee all over Momma’s clean linoleum floor.
“And she’s moving to bumfuck nowhere, Montana? To work on a ranch?”
“She wanted something new — a change of pace, she said.”
“This’ll do it.”
“Be nice to her.”
I grunt. I’m not an asshole; I’m just not one for small talk. I’m here to work, get my people to work, and go home at night to be with my kids. I’m done trying to make friends. And I don’t need some little girl moving out here thinking it’s gonna be a mountain vacation.
“I’m serious, Rhett. Be nice to that girl. Hardly anyone applied, and no one applied with the type of background we need. She’s it.” He makes a cut-off motion with his hand and then gives me a look. His eyebrow raises up toward his hairline.
“It’s not gonna be my job to be nice to her,” I tell him. “It’s Wells’.”
Pops sighs but lets me have it because I’m right. Wells is in charge of all those animals, and I’m in charge of the working ranch. The ranch that makes us the money that allows us to keep Addie’s dream alive. The ranch that will pay the city girl’s paycheck.
“Wells better not dip his wick.”
I laugh.
“Christ, Pops. What’s her name?” Rinsing my mug, I set it on the top rack of the dishwasher.
“Poppy Sharpe.”
“Age?” I ask, seeming uninterested but actually curious about how young this girl is. Moving by yourself to the middle of nowhere isn’t for the faint of heart. I wonder if she has a family that she’s leaving behind.
“Twenty-six.”
Christ. A decade younger than me. She’s practically a toddler.
“I gotta get,” I say with a sigh. “Animals aren’t gonna feed themselves. When’s she coming?”
“Today. This morning, actually,” he says, an ornery smile appearing on his mouth as he goes back to his paper.
“Nice,” I deadpan. “Had to tell me at the last minute?”
“Didn’t want you trying to stop the good things I set in motion for this business.”
“My business, I’ll have you know,” I toss over my shoulder.
“Whatever.” He brushes me off. “I ran it before you, and your granddaddy did before me. I won’t let you run it into the ground!” he calls out after me.
I can’t help but slam the door as I stomp on my way out like a petulant child. He hates everything about what I’m doing to the family ranch. He hates that we take in rescues, rehabilitating them or giving them a good place to roam and sleep until they pass. Hell, it’s not my idea of fun. I didn’t do it because I think it’s a blast.
